Still sliding

Menu

Z starts another rambling tale from her past

For no particular reason, I was thinking of a holiday we took when I was fourteen. It was our last family holiday, in fact, not that we had any idea of that at the time. I don’t think I’ve blogged it before, though I might have referred to it – still, I’ll rely on my memory being no worse than yours.

My sister was attending Winkfield Place, appropriately enough, which was resolutely not a finishing school, but a post-school establishment where one could learn Cordon Bleu cookery and various other accomplishments – Wink loved it there and said it was an especially happy time of her life. She was due home for the summer holidays and my mother asked what she would like for a celebration meal: she asked for Governor’s Mansion House Pot Roast, which is pot-roasted sirloin of beef.

My father had had the bright idea of buying a caravan. I’m not sure why. We were a bit short of the readies at the time – Winkfield Place was expensive, not just because of the fees but because of the extra-curricular expenses (theatre trips to London and so on). I stayed over once, and can quite understand why Wink loved it so much, the other girls were delightful and so kind, quite outside my experience. I cheerily wrapped myself in a blanket, as it was the last night of term and the sheets of those who’d already left had been removed: the girls were astonished that I could sleep and were very solicitous. I – well, darlings, you know me, I take whatever comes and wasn’t bothered, but they looked after me so kindly – if I remember their care 45 years on, with my memory, then you know that it touched me.

Anyway, I digress – oh, I see there are further digressions to come. I should first tell you about Susie, but I’m tired right now, having been awake from 1 am. No, no reason, I just don’t sleep well.

Darling Susie, she was my dog, more than any other in my childhood. I will start with her. Tomorrow, though. I must sleep now. This is not a cliffhanger, it’s far gentler than that.

I’m beginning to enjoy my own nostalgic moments… they seem to pop up from nowhere.
I am also beginning to enjoy the quiz to leave a comment here… but I’m waiting to find out what my results are… one day I’ll come here and you’ll tell me that I should be living in Paris… or, maybe Blackpool.
Sx

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Comment

Name *

Email *

Website

Notify me of followup comments via e-mail. You can also subscribe without commenting.

The Unobservant Eye of Z

Dramatis personae:
My husband, Lovely Tim or LT for short (though he is actually tall).
My late husband, the Sage, aka Russell.
My children: Dearest daughter Weeza, who has London Ways, is married to Phil. Their daughter is Zerlina Buttercup and their son is Augustus Bufo. Elder son - Al X, is married to Dilly. Their children are Squiffany Virgilia, Maximus Pugsley and Hadrian Swallow. Younger son - Ro married Dora in September 2014 and their first baby, Rufus Russell, was born on 9th June last year.
Big Sister: Wink. She lives in Wiltshire, 230 miles away, but we're much closer than that.
We live with our cat Eloise, a black tortoiseshell half-Ragdoll.
Bantams live in the garden, recent additions being tiny Seramas called Crow, Jet and Yvette, along with three chicks, and cats live in the barns but we feed them and they have ambitions to be pets too. In addition, cows come to visit in the summer. Mostly, they stay in the fields. None of them has got a hoof in the door yet.
There is an annexe to the house, where Roses lives and her beloved, Lawrence, spends a lot of time there. Her son, Boy, lives there too.

Z’s blogroll

Updating takes too much memory, sorry - but then I'm not very young any more, so am hanging on to the memory I've got. Please don't look for any significance in the order - I'm not drunk but I am disorderly.

Recent Posts

In case we are nostalgic

Meta

Copyright

Oh, what's the problem? This is hardly Great Literature. I'd appreciate anything taken from here being acknowledged, and I might change my mind if I'm suddenly proclaimed as the Literary Queen of the Blogosphere - but I probably wouldn't. Do what you like, just as long as it doesn't extend to defamation of anyone, even me.

Actually, you want to pass off what I say as your own, I might even be flattered. Let's face it, who cares anyway?